The vale was quiet as it usually was.
The sun was slowly rising, lighting the upper half of the Homely House. This was what Faorie could see as she rode into Imladris with Thendryt's journal stored into Ebrail's left satchel. Slowing down, she crossed the vine draped bridge of Rivendell, shifting her gaze across the landscape.
Most of the residents of the hidden valley were likely to be found within their houses, wandering generously litted areas, or walking the halls of Lord Elrond's home. As to not cause disruption to the naturally tranquil atmosphere, Faorie slowed Ebrail to a walk and continued towards the Homely House, determined to reveal what she had found to the Council.
She dismounted her steed just before the ramp that lead to the entrance and reached into his satchel for Thendryt's journal. Pulling it out, Faorie felt the worn hard covering. The corners were rubbed down or broken off, the designs that once adorned the cover had faded and peeled, and the smell of aged rubble could be noted clearly. She stared at it for a moment, thinking of Thendryt and the consequences that may follow if she were to reveal the existence of the book.
But it was decided, and her duty to the safety of Imladris and its inhabitants, as well the trust of her comrades, had to be kept to the highest priority.
Whatever Thendryt had to hide was of no privilege to himself, no matter what the reason.
Faorie took her first steps up the ramp, breathing in slowly. Ebrail could be heard from behind, snorting heavily and stomping his hooves on the ground.
She stood past the ramp, making her way towards the elegantly carved doors.
Ebrail neighed impatiently, followed by another heavy exhale through his nostrils.
As she reached for one of the handles, Ebrail reared and stomped his hooves loudly back onto the ground.
Faorie turned around suddenly and rushed back to her steed with a questioning expression. “What is it?” she asked quickly. She reached to pet his mane when he turned his head away. Furrowing her brow, Faorie stared at Ebrail. “Stop this now. There is no need to – ” She then halted her speech as she turned her sight up towards the distant rising hills.
She took a few steps forward, passing Ebrail to clear her view. There was a dark figure standing at the archway that lead to the Misty Mountains.
Temporarily putting aside the idea of calling for an audience, Faorie stored the journal back into Ebrail's satchel, quickly mounted and galloped to the hilltop.
The shine of morning had risen, lighting the vale with its white glow. The dark figure stood silently still at the archway as Faorie arrived. Dismounting, she called to the stranger. “Randir, what are you –” Again, she stopped her sentence abruptly, widening her eyes - not having expected to encounter what she had at that very moment.
Before her stood a man. He was dressed in heavy, black painted armour, a thick hood covering his head, and from top to bottom stains of dried crimson could be seen scattered throughout his body. He was staring forward in an intensely fixed glare that was only too familiar to Faorie. And before she knew it, she called to him.
“Thendryt!”
